


Hate Me (In the Morning)

by avintagekiss24, HeyBoy



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Frottage, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Sex, Shameless Smut, Simultaneous Orgasm, Smut, Top T'Challa (Marvel), Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22825852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintagekiss24/pseuds/avintagekiss24, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy
Summary: There's a thin line between love and hate... a very, very, very thin line that T'Challa knows all too well.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes/T'Challa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87
Collections: Marvel Rare Pair Bang 2019





	Hate Me (In the Morning)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Marvel Rare Pair Bang! I was paired with HeyBoy, who is fantastic! I had a lot of fun working on this one, hope you guys enjoy!

T’challa stares at the ceiling from his large bed. He blinks slowly as the moonlight cascades in from the large windows from his right. The Wakandan night is still, warm, and quiet - but then, there’s footsteps. There’s always footsteps in the dead of the night.

T’challa cuts his eyes toward his door, waiting for it to open slowly. Within seconds, the heavy wooden door opens, letting in just a sliver of dim light from the hallway. It closes softly - with a click - and then there’s footsteps again. T’challa slides his dark eyes with the figure as it moves across his room and just to the end of the bed. They stare at each other for a while, neither moving, nor saying a word. They both just breathe.

The man at the edge of his bed lets out a heavy breath after a while and runs his hand through his hair. He’s been gone for a while - off with Sam and Steve. Dare T’Challa say that he missed him. T’Challa blinks again and lets his eyes move around his face. He looks tired; worn… but _good_. He blinks as the man slips his shirt over his head, revealing his chiseled, hard torso.

T’Challa swallows.

T’Challa dips his eyes to the man’s battle tested body, scars both old and new littered upon his skin like a roadmap of his torture. The moonlight accentuates the muscles in the man’s arms as he moves, unzipping his dark cargo pants. T’Challa rolls his head slightly towards him, his chest rising and falling steadily as the rough patch of dark hair sneaks out from beneath the man’s open pants.

He hates how gorgeous he is. How irresistible he has become to the King. T’Challa hates him, but yet, every night, he lets this man slither into his room, his head, his body - and lets him have his way, despite all he’s done (or hasn’t done, according to him). Despite the fact that T’Challa doesn’t trust him as far as he can throw him, even after all of this time.

He hates him, but, he _needs_ him - like the sky needs the sun and the moon and the stars.

The man stands in all his glory now, as naked as a man can physically, and emotionally be. He reaches for the thin, black, silk sheet covering T’Challa’s body and lifts it to slip underneath. T’Challa returns his gaze to the ceiling as the man slithers up his body from the foot of the bed - his fingers, both the flesh and metal ones dancing up his calves and thighs.

T’Challa blinks again as he feels the weight of the object of his desire and hatred settle on him.

The man pulls the sheet down from T’Challa’s stomach, letting it rest on his head as he glances up at him. He flattens his palms on T’Challa’s stomach, stretching out his fingers over his abs before rubbing his digits along them - tracing them. He plants a warm, slow kiss into his flesh and then another, and another, before his tongue slips through the soft, curly hair at T’Challa’s navel.

T’Challa’s dick jumps at the notion.

T’Challa lets his eyes flutter shut as the man continues to entice him with his hands, his mouth, and his tongue. T’Challa balls the sheets in his hands as the skilled soldier pushes his suddenly hard cock into T’Challa’s thigh. Blood rushes through T’Challa’s veins as his body starts to react. His breath comes harder and faster, his stomach tightens with anticipation, his dick stands - rigid and firm - almost painful.

The man pushes his face into T’Challa’s neck, kissing him quickly before he sucks the sensitive flesh between his lips. He bites down softly and can’t help but chuckle as T’Challa hisses and pushes his hips into his. He loves seeing the King like this - unraveled.

T’Challa feels his laugh against him again, letting the low rumble of it spread through his warm, excited body. He releases the sheets and pushes his hand to the flesh of man on top of him, gripping his muscular ass in his hand as the man’s pink tongue licks at T’Challa’s thick lips. He lets the man kiss him deeply, lets him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, lets him sweep his tongue across his own **.**

The man moans into T’Challa’s mouth before releasing his lips with a smack. The long haired man smiles, and it’s glorious, “Miss me?”

T’Challa lets out a breath as his dark eyes bounce between the warm blue ones staring back at him, “No.”

The man pushes a breath through his nose as another smirk crosses his lips. He pushes his hips into T’Challa’s, sliding his dick along his, “Sure feels like you missed me.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughs again and T’Challa will never admit that it’s a lovely sound - a rare sound. Maybe it’s a sound that only T’Challa, and maybe Steve, are privileged enough to hear. He presses a kiss to T’Challa’s cheek and then into the crook of his nose before he captures his mouth again. His long, brown hair tickles T’Challa’s face as it falls around the two of them. He pushes his tongue into T’Challa’s mouth again, sweeping it along the roof of his mouth before massaging his tongue.

“Well,” the man starts as he moves back down the length of his body, “I missed you.”

T’Challa lifts his head to watch him kiss his way down his chest and stomach. He inhales sharply as his nipple is tweaked between the man’s fingers - _fuck_ , he knows him so well. T’Challa pushes his hips into the man’s lower half as he continues to pinch his nipple, quick flashes of electric shocks ripping through his body.

The blue eyed man sends his gaze back towards him as his lips graze along his lower stomach. He smiles at him again before he licks a slow path from T’Challa’s belly button to the thick, curly hair that covers his sex. He lifts his head and turns his attention to his favorite part of T’Challa, standing thick and tall, mere centimeters from his greedy lips and mouth.

He moves to grab him, but T’Challa snatches his wrist. He looks up at him, his eyes focusing in on T’Challa’s, reading the same hesitation and uncertainty as always. He’s not sure what he has to do to gain the Black Panther’s trust, but he knows that’s not all that bothers the reluctant king. He’s still new to this - his feelings for other men. He’s hidden it for so long, he’s not sure how to be comfortable with it just yet.

The king is also torn with his feelings for _him_. Deep down, he knows that T’Challa knows the truth, that he didn’t kill his father, but it’s still… _there_ , in the subconscious of his brain. He also knows that he has to give T’Challa time, and until he’s _really_ ready, he’ll just fuck the uncertainty out of him - even if it only lasts the night.

“Bucky-”

“Shh,” He places his metal index finger to his lips and shakes his head, “You can go back to hating me in the morning.”

Bucky pulls his wrist from T’Challa’s tight grasp and grabs his cock, letting the warmth spread through his palm. He drags his hand to the tip of T’Challa’s beautiful length and sweeps it over the tip. His tongue darts out from behind his lips and teases his slit, flicking it gently as his hand moves back down to his base.

He feels T’Challa’s body relax as he strokes his cock slow and firm. He plays with his balls with his other hand, rolling them between his fingers and pulling softly as his tongue continues to tease T’Challa’s now leaking slit. He licks the precum away, letting it leave a tangy, sharp taste in his wet mouth. His favorite taste.

He sets his eyes back onto T’Challa, watching him writhe beneath him. He pushes his hips up into Bucky’s hand as his muscles tense and flex under the moonlight. His eyes are closed, his dark, long lashes splashing against his smooth, deep brown skin. His lips are parted, his jaw slack as his hips continue to pulse. He moans softly at first but each one that follows gets louder - his breath harder - as Bucky pumps his hand up and down, up and down, up and down.

Bucky finally follows his hand with his mouth, taking T’Challa’s length right down his throat. He used to gag on him. T’Challa loved it, and even though he’s used to him now, he still gags, just to make the king happy. The sound bounces off the walls and T’Challa tangles his fingers into Bucky’s hair, pulling roughly as he bucks his hips into Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky twists his hands around T’Challa’s wet cock as his head bobs up and down. He releases him with a pop and licks his lips quickly before swallowing him again. He releases him again with another pop, and lets the strings of saliva and cum hang from his lips. He feels T’Challa sweep his hair away from his face and ball it into a ponytail at the back of his head.

He wants to see that face.

Bucky swallows his cock again and pushes his nose into T’Challa’s curly hair. He smells so good - so clean, so _royal_. Bucky continues to suck and pump him as he humps the mattress, pushing his own dick along the silk sheets, leaking onto the expensive material with each push of his hips. Bucky hums in sheer delight as he grips T’Challa’s hip, squeezing his flesh in his hand.

T’Challa pushes his hips from the mattress again, sinking into Bucky’s mouth further. He tangles his long fingers into his soft hair and scratches at his scalp with his nails as he draws his legs up around Bucky’s head. His toes curl against the mattress as Bucky’s tongue slides along his shaft and circles the head of his cock before he swallows him again. He’s a pro. A goddamn one hundred year old pro.

Bucky releases him and sends his eyes towards T’Challa’s, another smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He continues to stroke him slowly with his hand, sweeping his thumb over his slit before he crawls up his lean body. He straddles T’Challa’s body and leans in to kiss him, this time softer - sweeter. He really did miss him.

T’Challa grips Bucky’s thighs, rubbing them gently as he moans into the soft kiss. Bucky pulls away from him - but not far. He’s just mere inches from T’Challa’s face and lips. T’Challa watches as Bucky tilts his head slowly, and moves his eyes around his face. The moon glints in his blue eyes as they move and T’Challa wonders why he looks at him like this. It’s always so sincere, so _deep_ , like he’s trying to etch T’Challa’s face into his brain for when he’s not around.

T’Challa reaches for his face, pushing Bucky’s hair away slowly. He stares back at the man on top of him, letting his eyes wander around his face too - wanting to remember Bucky when he isn’t around. He lets his eyes linger on those pink lips as they part slightly before he moves to his chin. He thinks this is his favorite part of Bucky Barnes, his strong, square chin. He likes the cleft in it, the small patch of gray hair that grows just to the left, the way his stubble feels against his skin. Yeah, this is his favorite part of James Buchanan Barnes.

T’Challa digs his fingers into Bucky’s hair and cups his cheeks in his palms. He gazes up into his steel blue eyes and finds a mischievous hue in them, and another soft smile playing on his lips.

“You did miss me.” Bucky whispers.

T’Challa rolls his eyes playfully and expels a breath, “Just shut up and fuck me, will you?”

“Oooh,” Bucky coos and leans up, grabbing T’Challa’s dick again, “Will do, baby.”

Bucky reaches across his body and slides open the top drawer to the hand-carved night stand. He pats around until he finds a small tube of lubricant. He squeezes a small amount into his palm before tucking the bottle away. He reaches back to T’Challa, taking his length into his palm and strokes him again, coating his shaft with the warming gel. He flattens his palm on T’Challa’s chest and spreads out his fingers along his skin as he circles his own hole with his wet fingers.

T’Challa drops his hands to Bucky’s waist, holding him as he raises up slightly. He bites his bottom lip as Bucky strokes his dick a few times before guiding him toward his tight hole. He watches Bucky’s face as he leans forward, using the hand on his chest to hold his weight as he presses T’Challa’s dick against his opening. He sinks down onto him slowly, his blue eyes closing, that strong jaw going slack as T’Challa fills him.

It’s heaven to watch.

T’Challa grips Bucky’s hips in his hands, wincing and hissing as an intense, tight, consuming warmth envelopes him. He slams his head back into the pillow as Bucky takes him inch by inch, nice and slow until his body has completely swallowed him up. T’Challa groans loudly as he lets out a few audible breaths and shoots his eyes back to Bucky’s angelic face.

Bucky doesn’t move at first. He just sits there, breathing heavily as his body stretches to accommodate T’Challa. He sits back and lets his head roll back on his neck as he rests his hands on T’Challa’s chest. His fingers knead T’Challa’s smooth skin, almost like a cat, as his eyes close. He relishes in the feeling of T’Challa’s fingers skirting up and down his sides, feather light touches that swell Bucky’s chest. Oh, how he loves to be touched now.

He hums to himself as T’Challa pushes his hands along his abs and up to his pecks, then around to his muscular back and shoulders. He gropes at him as his hands move, like he’s exploring Bucky for the first time all over again. Bucky lets T’Challa wrap his hand around his neck before he pushes his fingers along his jawline and up to his mouth. He kisses the tips of his fingers as T;Challa shifts underneath him to sit up.

Bucky wraps his arms around T’Challa’s neck and pulls him into him, nuzzling his cheek with his own. He shivers slightly as T’Challa’s fingers dance up and down his spine and his hot lips press against his neck and chin. Only then does he start to move. He places his hands on T’Challa’s shoulders as he lifts off of him and then sinks back down over and over again. He pushes T’Challa back down onto the mattress and presses his hands into his chest again as his pace quickens.

T’Challa’s legs fall open as Bucky rides him. His hips start to move with Bucky’s, thrusting up into him as he bounces. T’Challa slides his hands along Bucky’s sides and chest, gripping his skin, leaving indentations as he holds onto him. His toes curl as he takes Bucky’s cock into his hand, pumping him hard and fast as Bucky’s hips still. T’Challa takes the cue and thrusts up into him over and over again, his skin slapping against Bucky’s as he fucks him.

Bucky groans loudly as T’Challa slams into him, unintelligible words falling from his lips as lust rushes through his veins.

Within seconds, Bucky is flipped over onto his back. His legs are around T’Challa’s ears, resting on his shoulders. He presses his hands into the King’s thighs as he pushes into him again, wasting no time. T’Challa instantly starts thrusting into him - hard and quick - as Bucky hangs onto him. He slams his eyes shut and grinds his teeth as T’Challa fucks him into oblivion.

T’Challa’s mouth falls open as he hovers over Bucky, fucking him with every ounce of strength he can muster. He grabs his calves and spreads Bucky’s legs as he pushes him up the mattress. His chest tightens as he pulses his hips into him, hanging onto Bucky’s ankles. He leans forward and kisses his boy quickly before he straightens up again and watches as Bucky grabs his own cock and starts to hand fuck himself as T’Challa presses on his prostate.

T’Challa pulls out of him abruptly and flips him on to his hands and knees. He strokes his dick a few times before he presses between Bucky’s incredible cheeks, gliding into him again. His strokes are forceful, sending Bucky’s moan’s up an octave and decibel. It’s a good thing his family sleeps at the opposite end of the palace. He rests his hand on Bucky’s lower back and presses his weight into him as he fucks him, lurching him forward.

“Fuck, T!” Bucky’s growls, taking every delicious pound in stride, “Fuck, you feel so good baby.”

“That’s my boy,” T’Challa purrs as he pulls all the way out of him, before slamming right back in, “You love my dick, don’t you?”

“Ugh, you know I love the King’s cock. You know I love it baby.”

His cock slips out and glides between Bucky’s cheeks, still hugging him tightly, like a titty fuck. He grabs himself and slaps Bucky’s ass with his dick once, twice, three times before he slams back into him.

Bucky collapses into the mattress, unable to hold himself up any longer. He digs his face into the pillows, grunting into it as sparks bounce through his body. He bites down into the pillow and pulls upward before releasing the material from between his teeth to let more curse words fall from his lips.

T’Challa pulls him up and places Bucky’s hands on the wall in front of them. He bends him forward slightly and fucks into him again, this time reaching around to grab Bucky’s rock hard cock. He fucks him fast as he grips his hip with one hand and pumps his cock with the other.

He plants sloppy kisses along Bucky’s chin and neck, biting down into his flesh. He chuckles when Bucky yelps, his body tensing beneath T’Challa’s as he introduces a little pain to their pleasure - just how they both like it. Spurts of cum dribble onto T’Challa’s fingers as Bucky moans loudly. T’Challa knows he’s close, but he isn’t nearly done with him.

“I’m going to let you cum,” he says softly into Bucky’s ear, “But you need to be ready for me again. Do you hear me?”

Bucky nods quickly as another shiver runs up his spine, “Yes, yes, yes.”

T’Challa keeps his grip firm on Bucky’s cock as he pumps him, still continuing to fuck his tight ass. He feels Bucky shiver and his muscles tense as he grows closer to his orgasm. His grunts and groans are loud and high, music to T’Challa’s ears. He keeps the force behind his thrusts until Bucky is a quaking mess, writhing and moaning until he just can’t take it anymore.

Bucky cums, hard. Spurt after spurt splashing against the headboard and sheets as he releases. He throws his head back, resting it on T’Challa’s shoulder as he whimpers and groans, his eyes slammed shut, his mouth hanging open. His hips jut forward as his body tenses with his orgasm. He reaches back to grab T’Challa’s hip and digs his nails into his flesh, hanging on to him as he’s milked completely.

T’Challa wraps his hand around his neck again and splatters kisses along his lover’s face and chin. He nibbles on his earlobe and flattens his palm to Bucky’s chest, chuckling as he feels his rapid, thumping heartbeat.

“Christ,” Bucky lets out through choppy, hard breaths. He lets his head fall forward, his hair cascading around his face, “Fucking hell, T. How did you not cum after all that?”

T’Challa laughs deeply before slipping his tongue just beneath Bucky’s ear, “You know me, Soldat.” He whispers, returning his hand to Bucky’s cock to stroke him slowly.

Bucky hums softly as he lays his head back on T’Challa’s shoulder. A smile spreads on his face as he reaches back again, this time to run his fingers through T’Challa’s tight, soft, curly hair. He rubs T’Challa’s head as he pulls out of him, but keeps his tight grasp on Bucky’s dick, dragging his palm along his length slowly.

“You ready baby?”

His deep accented voice is like silk, wrapping around Bucky’s limbs and body, and pulling him deeper and deeper into his web. He nods before verbalizing it, “Yes.”

“Lay down.”

Bucky obeys, laying face down on the mattress. He turns his head towards the windows and tucks his hands underneath the pillows.

T’Challa reaches for his night stand, grabbing his lube once more. He watches as Bucky pushes his behind into the air, wiggling it quickly to draw a laugh out of him. T’Challa slaps Bucky’s right cheek and watches his flesh jiggle before squeezing more lube onto his dick.

“Nice ass, Barnes.”

“Why thank you, Your Highness.”

T’Challa grabs himself, running his hand along his still hard length a few times before slapping Bucky’s behind again with his cock. He runs the tip of his cock between Bucky’s ass cheeks while pressing Bucky’s flesh together to firmly encase him.

Bucky’s hips start to grind slowly, coping a feel against the silk sheets again. He closes his eyes again as T’Challa slips his cock between his ass, feeling a few drips of T’Challa’s warm seed drop to his skin.

T’Challa takes one last drag, before positioning himself at Bucky’s hole. He presses slowly and releases a deep, slow breath as he sinks into him again. He pushes his knees into Bucky’s thighs and rests his hands onto his back, pushing Bucky into the mattress as he starts to fuck him again. His strokes are deep and slow - T’Challa taking his time to ensure Bucky feels every last inch of him before he pulls out of him.

Then, without warning, his hips are punishing - each thrust now quick and hard, just like before. He presses his fingers into Bucky’s skin, groping his muscles in his hands as sweat begins to prickle on his brow. Bucky’s muffled grunts makes T’Challa’s chest swell - intoxicating him to point where his own orgasm threatens to erupt. He shivers as he pounds into him, the sound of their skin coming together in such a frenzy adding to his arousal.

He pulls out of Bucky again, grabbing his arm and rolling him over onto his back. He lays on top of him, grabbing Bucky’s lips with his own as Bucky palms his ass firmly. He pushes his hips against Bucky’s, sliding his cock along his as he humps him. Their lips smack loudly as they rut against each other, Bucky still holding onto his firm behind.

Bucky lets his hands roam along T’Challa smooth skin - up his back, around his shoulders, then back down to his thighs and ass. He bucks his hips into T’Challa’s as he continues to rub his dick along his, coaxing more dribbles to cum to leak from Bucky’s slit. He feels the warmth slip along his side and drop to the black sheets below.

It’s moments like these that tell Bucky these trysts just aren’t all hate fueled fucks - not that he opposes those by any means. These tender, sweet moments from T’Challa are few and far between, but they mean something. He’s a stoic man, always having to keep his feelings, his emotions tight to the vest, but from time to time he manages to let his guard down. It just so happens to always occur when Bucky is in his bed - underneath him, taking every bit of pure emotion that his hips and cock can deal out.

Bucky will gladly take them all.

He blinks up at the man on top of him, his eyes wandering along his face. He rubs T’Challa’s head again with his hands before pulling him into the crook of his neck and hugging him tightly to him. He runs his metal digits down his spine as their hips still move against each other and cups his firm ass again, wanting him to just let it all go. T’Challa moans start to grow louder - more desperate - his body starting to quiver. Bucky pushes his hand between their bodies, pinching T’Challa’s tight nipple to draw him closer.

T’Challa leans up, his hips still pumping into the crease of Bucky’s leg and along his cock. He whimpers as Bucky continues to pinch and pull at his nipple, sending daggers of electricity through his body. He leaks more cum onto Bucky’s skin as he reaches a higher, almost whiny octave. His thighs quiver, his muscles tensing as another shiver ripples through him.

Bucky grabs his cock and slides his hand up and down T’Challa’s shaft, keeping his eyes on his face and his grip on his dick firm. He flicks T’Challa’s nipple before tweaking it between his thumb and index finger as soft words of encouragement fall from his lips. _It’s okay baby. I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe with me._

T’Challa finally succumbs to the pressure. He spills onto Bucky’s stomach and fingers as he thrusts his hips into Bucky’s hand. His moans are warm and full, sensitive and shaky - gentle - as he cums in his lovers’ arms. His muscles continue to tense and flex, his thighs and ass shaking with the influxes of his orgasm.

Bucky supports him through it, hissing and cooing, reminding T’Challa of how _good_ he is. He joins him moments later, cumming again all over his own stomach as T’Challa releases the last few ribbons of his own spunk onto his skin.

T’Challa collapses after a few tense moments, when his body is empty and sore. Bucky holds him tightly, breathing heavy and hard as T’Challa’s heart thumps against his chest. Their hips slow to a stop as Bucky’s hands and fingers start to roam again, up and down T’Challa’s body, squeezing and groping his skin as they move, coaxing the king into a restful slumber.

Several minutes pass. The room is silent except for the increasingly heavy, rhythmical breathing of the dozing T’Challa. A warm breeze rushing in from the open window - the moonlight spills into the room, casting shadows along their naked, warm, spent bodies. T’Challa’s leg is thrown over Bucky’s, his fingers curled into his hair as he moves into a deeper sleep.

Bucky cups the back of T’Challa’s head as he blinks up at the ceiling, rubbing slow, comforting circles into his hair. He presses his lips to his forehead, once, twice, three times before he just lets them linger there. His mind racing - but also still. It all makes sense, but then it doesn’t. Bucky doesn’t worry about it too much. His whole life makes sense, and then doesn’t. His eyes close, and he lets the Wakandan breeze lull him into a catnap - after all, the sun will be up soon.

\-----

T’Challa’s eyes crack open as the sun spills in over his face. He rolls over away from the windows as he groans and rubs at his eyes before letting his gaze fall back to the mattress. Bucky is gone, but he always is before the morning comes. There’s not a shred of evidence that he was in his room, or even in the palace at all. His Hydra training is still ever present.

T’Challa takes a long breath, expelling it through his nostrils as Bucky’s words play through his mind. _You can go back to hating me in the morning._ A smile creeps onto his face. T’Challa has never been one to tell a lie - he enjoys their little secret, even while not fully understanding his turmoiled feelings. He doesn’t quite _hate_ him, but he doesn’t quite _like_ him either - but he likes whatever is going on between them. He guesses for now, he doesn’t have to understand it.

He throws the sheets back and climbs out of his large bed, rubbing his face as he moves into his lavish bathroom. Time to start the day - it’s never too early for a king.

After an hour or so, he’s in the dining hall, a large plate of steaming food placed in front of him. He sips on his freshly squeezed orange juice as he reads through the executive orders placed on his desk, the world news playing on the television behind him. He glances up as a flash of movement alerts him to a new presence entering the room. He smirks as he drops the papers to the table, taking a bite of his toast before he leans back in his chair.

“Where exactly have you been on this fine morning princess? It’s early for you, no?”

She smiles back at him as she drops her napkin into her lap, “It’s never too early for me, brother. There’s many more discoveries for me to make, can’t do that if I’m sleeping the day away.”

T’Challa waits for her to tell him where she was, but instead is met with silence as she takes a bite into her eggs. He clicks his teeth slightly, tilting his head as she pulls out her phone and starts to giggle at something that no doubt the young Peter Parker has texted her.

He clears his throat and she glances up at him, “So?”

“So, what?” She asks, widening her eyes.

“Where were you?”

She rolls her eyes, “I went to ask Sergeant Barnes if he wanted to join us for breakfast this morning. He doesn’t eat near enough, and he spends most of his days with those goats. He _talks_ to them, you know. That’s not very healthy.”

T’Challa drops his eyes to his plate at the mention of his name and clears his throat, “And what did the Sergeant say?”

She takes a swig of her apple juice before digging her fork into her eggs again, “He said seeing your face would ruin his appetite.”

T’Challa’s mouth drops open as genuine shock floods through his body. Shuri nearly chokes on her food as she laughs, having to cover her mouth with her hand, “What? That’s what he said!”

T’Challa lets out a huff before taking another angry bite of his breakfast. He’s changed his mind - he does _hate_ Bucky Barnes.


End file.
